


If He Lived

by steampunkcircus



Series: Looking Glass Worlds [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, alternate beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steampunkcircus/pseuds/steampunkcircus
Summary: The first chapter and a half of Through the Looking Glass on Earth Two with a twist.





	If He Lived

**Author's Note:**

> So you'll want to read Through the Looking Glass first, but this is the first version I wrote of the first chapter and a half for Earth Two where Gabriel was still alive. So, here's Earth Two Gabriel interacting with Earth One Nathalie.

**TWO**

"Mom? Can you hear me? She's waking up!"

Nathalie kept her eyes closed and took stock of how she felt. She ached like she had worked out too hard, muscles protesting movement. Her head felt a little too light and her skin was cold and clammy like she had been sweating. What had happened? She remembered helping Mr. Agreste with a mostly-translated spell and potion. She remembered she needed to talk to Adrien, and heading to the exit of the lair. Then, nothing. She had felt fine all day. If something were wrong-

Wait, did that voice call her "Mom"?

Her eyes flew open. She looked around the room and spotted a familiar mop of blond hair.

"Adrien? What- where am I?"

The room was unfamiliar. She was on a bed, large and comfortable, with a canopy above. The furniture was of beautiful dark wood: a desk, two dressers, an armoire, and two nightstands. The walls were a pale purple, accented in red. She knew every room in the Agreste mansion, and this was not one of them.

"It's your room."

She blinked and sat up, leaning against the headboard with more of her weight than she'd like, weak from whatever had happened to her.

"Where are my-"

Adrien placed her glasses in her hand and she looked around again, taking in details. She spotted pictures of her on the wall with the Agrestes. Pictures she didn't remember taking. Her prescription allergy medication sat on the nightstand to her right, along with a battered copy of her favorite book, but definitely not _her_ copy.

"What is this?" she asked, a little more harshly than she intended. "Where am I really?"

"What? Mom, are you okay?"

"Adrien, did someone take us?" Panic started bubbling as theories flowed together in her mind. "Was I drugged? Were you? Are you okay?"

"Dad?" Adrien called over his shoulder.

"Sorry, sorry, I was dealing with some new recruits. They're the most unsubtle individuals I've had the displeasure of meeting."

Someone with Gabriel Agreste's height, build, and facial structure walked into the room. Nathalie did not believe that Gabriel Agreste walked into the room because this man could not be Gabriel. He carried himself a little looser, his smile was too wide, too sincere. His hair was soft, un-gelled, the bags under his eyes undisguised by makeup, and his outfit... Everything fit him well, but he was wearing a blue polo shirt and black dress slacks. It was unflamboyant, not particularly fashion-forward, and he wasn't even wearing a tie.

"How are you, Dear? I wanted to wait before calling the doctor to see if you remember what happened."

He sat next to her, placing a hand on her knee. She jerked out of his touch and he pulled away, startled at her recoil.

"Dear?"

Nathalie didn't say a word. She stood on shaky legs and looked around. Her shoes were set next to the bed and she slipped them on.

"You wore heels today?" Not-Gabriel asked.

She did not say, "Of course I wore heels, it was in my contract with you." She did not say, "Adrien called me Mom and I'm not sure how I feel about that." She did not ask, "Who are you, what has happened, where am I?"

Instead, she walked to the half-open bathroom door, closed it, locked it, and pulled out her phone.

No signal.

She sat on the floor and tried not to hyperventilate.

/*****/

"Nathalie?" the man who was not Gabriel called through the bathroom door.

"You aren't Mr. Agreste," Nathalie said, pacing the length of the bathroom and looking around for anything to help her out of this situation.

"Then who am I?" he asked. She could _hear_ him quirking one eyebrow and smirking.

"I'm not sure," she said. She wasn't sure of much except that something was very, very wrong.

"Nathalie, I'm calling the doctor," he said.

"No," she said. "Of all the things I am certain at this moment, I am certain that my health and I are not the problem here."

"She called us problems," Not-Gabriel said, presumably to Not-Adrien.

"Well, we definitely can be," Not-Adrien said.

And then he _laughed_. He _and_  Not-Gabriel _laughed_.

Something was very wrong.

"Okay," Nathalie said, pulling herself together, standing straight, hands behind her back. "Why doesn't my phone work?"

"Oh, it broke? When did that happen?" Not-Gabriel asked. "Do you want Adrien's tech friend- Max, is it?- to look at it?"

She allowed herself a small shake of her head. Another question then. "Where am I?"

"Nathalie, you're at home," Not-Gabriel said. The concern in his voice surprised her more than him laughing did. The doorknob rattled. "Nathalie, open the door, I'm worried about you."

That question got her nothing as well. Onto the next. "Who are you?"

"Nathalie, please! Let me in!"

"Answer me," she said again, her chin lifting a fraction of an inch.

"I'm your husband! Gabriel Felix Agreste. The one who makes the breakfast while you make the coffee. The one fighting this war by your side every day. Your partner and best friend."

She unlocked the door.

"That's absurd," Nathalie said, opening the door to the bathroom.

"Nathalie."

Not-Gabriel scooped her up in a hug that had her freezing with her arms trapped at her sides. He released her and brushed the hair back from her face.

"Your hair," he said, running his fingers over the streak of red on the left side of her face. "What hand do you use to write?"

"My left," she said, not sure how she felt about him standing so close, touching her hair, but deciding it wasn't as important as answers.

"You're not my wife, are you?"

"I am sure that your wife and I are different people," she said.

Not-Gabriel stepped back, his hands going behind his back in a familiar gesture that was disconcerting on this unfamiliar person.

"Come with me," he said. "We'll figure this out."

**Author's Note:**

> Talk with me over at [cheeseeatingtrashmonster.tumblr.com](https://cheeseeatingtrashmonster.tumblr.com/) if you like :)


End file.
